work on that alibi of yours
by feartown
Summary: She's still finding it hard to get warm. post-ep for setup/countdown. castle/beckett; beckett/josh.
1. part i

_She left Josh in the kitchen and turned on the shower, blanket still clutched roughly into her fists, the material scratching into her palms. A bath was usually the staple, but at that point it would have been too still, too much like warmth cooling into a freezing cocoon. She stripped off, her joints cracking, aching with the memories of ice creeping through her layers to start piling in the gaps; a blizzard in her bones. Steam rose off the tiles and her teeth gave an involuntary chatter. The water was too hot when she stepped under it but she let it spill over her, rivulets down her thighs, her chest, her arms as she crossed them over her stomach. It sets in, then, how close she came to the long-fingered embrace of death._

_When she woke after the rescue, saw her boyfriend's face creased in concern and then his mouth spread wide in joy she got caught up, tangled in thoughts of being _alive_ (of Ryan telling her Castle was fine, everyone was fine, and she was walking and breathing and smiling), and at the time, it was enough. Enough to make her think of chances and _what happens next_. She didn't think about what was going to happen when she was alone._

_There's a knock on the bathroom door._

_"Kate? You okay in there?"_

_Her heart constricted in her chest, burrowing further into its sturdy house of ribs, and she shut off the spray of water to call out an _I'm fine_, bundling a towel around her and opening the door to the worried furrow in his brow._

_She didn't sleep. She simply dressed, clipped on her badge and snagged her gun into its holster, the weight a comfort against her hip as she walked out the door and made her way back to the precinct._

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

She's still finding it hard to get warm.

Josh sits across from her, compelled into doctor mode at what he reads as listlessness. He knows nothing of a bomb, that he has almost lost Beckett twice in the space of twenty-four hours, he only sees her fork picking through what's left on her plate, the line of her shoulders trying not to slump.

His continued concern is touching, and she knows she should be grateful that he is here in front of her, not off selflessly saving Third World countries, but she can't shake that he doesn't know what it is like to be that close to freezing, he doesn't know what it is like to come to grips with your existence in the flashing red letters of a countdown. It's not his fault, but she almost wants to blame him nonetheless.

She tugs a small smile across her teeth. "I think I'm going to bed. Thank you for dinner."

Standing, she walks around the table to press a quick kiss to his mouth, and then goes straight to her room. Exhaustion claims her before she even has time to think about whether or not sleep will come easy.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

She wakes at three to the threat of eerie blue fading into darkness, sweat sending shivers down her neck. Josh stirs beside her but doesn't wake. Hauling a blanket off the foot of the bed, she grabs her phone from the nightstand and treads quietly to the living room, pulling her feet up under her on the couch, tucking the blanket into a shelter around her.

Castle picks up on the second ring and doesn't sound like he's been sleeping.

"Are you all right?"

There is no hello, no Kates or Becketts or hints of panic; there is just the acknowledgement that there is something wrong. This is all she has really wanted.

"Have you slept yet?" she asks.

"No. Don't change the subject. Have _you_ slept?"

"I had a dream about the container."

There is a pause, and she hears the crackle of his breath, jagged and uncertain even through a cell phone. "What do you need?"

"I still feel cold, do you? It's like I'm still thawing."

"Tell me about it, the last time I wore this many pairs of socks I was in Aspen in December." There is another pause - one she smiles in while she waits for the continuation she knows is coming.

"Isn't Josh there?"

Her smile starts to sting, and she drops it. "He'll be up in a couple of hours I guess. But it's hard, Castle. He doesn't know."

This pause is the longest yet, radio silence threading through ticking seconds. He breathes out. "You can come here if you want. If you think it will help."

She sees his face from earlier in the day, something that looked like pain masquerading as a smile as he walked away, and doesn't give herself time to think about how she should say no. "See you soon."

"Hey Beckett? If this doesn't work you know my mother is a life coach, I'm sure that's pretty close to a therapist. I could definitely get you a discount."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The ride feels short, like she barely got out her door before she arrived at his. It's ajar, and as soon as she steps in and closes it behind her she feels a heavy warmth; clearly he's had the heat on for hours.

He appears around the corner from his study, and when she sees him she smiles, feels a little more cold seep from her bones.

"Your family doesn't mind that you look like you're preparing for a snowstorm?"

"They're coming home in the morning," he gestures to the couch and heads to the liquor cabinet, "But I think... maybe we should go away for a bit. Somewhere tropical. The Mediterranean, perhaps." An eyebrow waggle accompanies the last sentence.

She takes off her shoes and her coat and curls into the couch, watches him pour two glasses of whiskey and bring them over. "Sounds nice."

"I can book you a seat on the plane too, you know." He hands her a glass and sits down next to her, thigh bumping her toes. She doesn't shift, and he pulls a blanket over the both of them.

"I'm not sure you can investigate homicides via webcam."

"Clearly you don't watch nearly enough TV."

She grins into her drink, the spicy warmth smooth on her throat, and knows his eyes are on her.

"Is Josh going to mind that you're here?"

"If he doesn't understand it's his issue, not mine. He knows at least some of what we've been through recently."

Castle nods, his gaze on the liquid in his glass.

"You defused a bomb earlier today, Castle. Your family is out of town and I'm the only other person who knows what that feels like right now. I'm sure I can be forgiven for that."

He looks at her and she doesn't let her gaze waver, needs him to know that she is here for him as much as she is here for herself. He smiles.

"I guess it's not every day you get to save a city."

She smiles back, shakes her head. Then she moves, stretches her legs over his lap and rests her feet on his other side. He hesitates, then drops his free arm and rests his hand at her knee. His thumb circles the depression and she feels heat spread, soak into her skin and sinew beneath. Something in her gut starts to burn.

It's not an unfamiliar feeling when it comes to him. He is, after all, charming and attractive and she has spent more than one frustrated night alone wondering why she hasn't just jumped him and gotten it over with. It's both fortunate and not that she is particular about repercussions.

He clears his throat; his fingers tap against her tibia. "You never told me how you met Josh."

She's forgotten that things have to be on his mind too. There is something awkward about them still, she notices, as she gears up to tell him what she should have some time ago. They are always being careful, spending too much time mentioning and not discussing, skirting and not confronting. She remembers the warmth of the coffee cup between her fingers this morning, and tightens the grip on her glass.

"It was after you left for the Hamptons last summer. Lanie took me out and when I met him at the bar we went to I just... liked him."

Her gaze drops to his hand on her knee, his fingers still. She doesn't mention that she was the one to make Lanie take her out, that at first she only liked Josh because he was what Castle didn't embody and kept him around because she liked his bike and his skill in bed. He was a distraction, a remedy, the band-aid that she needed.

The admiration for passion and drive and his blessedly busy schedule came later - somewhere around the time that Castle came back. She still tells herself there's nothing wrong with that, that she knew those qualities were there all along, but whenever she looks back at those first few weeks of the fall the memories are always escorted by a twinge of guilt.

She swallows. "I still do like him," she sees Castle's expression turn questioning, expecting her addendum, "He's a good person and I know he wants to make it work."

"But?"

"There shouldn't be a 'but'. That should be enough."

Castle picks up the hand picking at loose threads on the blanket. His fingers are warm around hers. "Not if it isn't what you want."

She squeezes his hand. "I have no idea what I want."

It's not entirely a lie, she reasons. She knows what other people want – Castle, Josh, but she is stuck in a stalemate with herself.

"To go to bed, by the look of it." He plucks the empty whiskey glass from where it rests against her stomach, and sets both his and hers on the table. "I can take you home if you want."

"Castle, that would basically defeat the purpose of coming over in the first place."

He shifts, uncomfortable. "Well, the guest—"

"Do me a favour and stop being a gentleman for five minutes. I trust you." She stands up, gestures for him to go first.

She does trust him implicitly; it's just herself she feels she has to keep an eye on. Her heart beats faster as she follows him down the hall, and she finds his room is as warm as the rest of the loft.

Her worries lessen as she lies down. As soon as she settles she feels _tired_, contentedly sleepy rather than trembling with exhaustion, and her muscles start to relax even as Castle gets in beside her and switches off the lamp.

"If you... dream anything again you'll wake me, right? Beckett?"

She turns towards him, searches out his form in the murky dark. She thinks about kissing him, how easy it would be to just roll the few inches to his face and find his lips with hers. She hasn't really kissed Josh since _before_, not in any kind of fiercely consuming way, and she is aching to feel something again. She banishes the thought.

"You don't have to worry about me, Castle."

He turns to face her, resting on an elbow. He feels close, his features are indistinguishable but he isn't far, his aftershave lingering at the edge of her senses.

"But my dearest Detective, if you wake up unsettled in the night I want to be able to take full advantage of your vulnerable state and indulge in some spirited post-nightmare cuddling. Trust me, I'm very comforting."

It's hard not to laugh (he, of course, cannot read her thoughts), and impossible not to take his bait. She leans in, finds the point where his breath catches across her mouth. "Who said I needed to have nightmares for you to comfort me?" Her words are whispers across his face, and she grins when she hears his sharp inhale. Then she rolls back over and faces the wall, pulling the covers tighter around her, waits for his response.

It doesn't come. There is only silence and she simply feels a shift, then the line of his arm against her back, the press of his nose into the highest notch in her spine.

Her eyes squeeze shut when he breathes out, long and slow, and she doesn't know if she's holding back affection or tears.


	2. part ii

**first off can i say wow, thank you so much for your response to the first part of this fic, i really didn't think my post-countdown ramblings would warrant so much attention but i'm very glad they did because it kind of spurred me into writing this. which brings me to secondly: i feel like there will maybe be another part? maybe maybe. this one is slightly too short for the whole thing to be finished, i think. **

* * *

_When she woke it felt late, the sun peering through the gaps in the curtains wasn't watery enough for her standard six-thirty in the morning. She started to cat-stretch, limbs waking up, but the movement caused a murmur from the sleeping form next to her. During the night Castle's fingers had curled around the hem of her shirt, his knuckles warm against the small of her back. She turned awkwardly and gently tried to pry his fingers away, her thumb stroking across the back of his hand. "Castle." He simply grunted in response, his fingers tightening, pulling, his body nestling closer to his fist._

_"_Castle_." She elbowed him in the bicep and he jerked awake, bleary-eyed and sheepish when he saw his position._

_His voice rumbled and rasped with tiredness. "Sorry Beckett. Sometimes I have this annoying habit where I get... possessive in my sleep." He let her go as she gave him a disbelieving _mmmhmm_, stretched his arms above his head and then burrowed under the covers again. His forearm brushed against her hip, the hairs tickling the skin where her shirt had ridden up. She watched him, once again fascinated with his penchant for childishness._

_"So are you going to leave me here with my illegitimate rumpled bedding to do the walk of shame back to your other life?" his voice was muffled by the covers, but she could still hear the teasing note in his question._

_She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry you thought our night meant more than it did." Her tone was light but she realised the double entendre just slightly too late; thankfully he took it the way she intended – or at least from what she could tell of his reaction masked by a comforter._

_"You really know how to make a girl feel cheap, Beckett."_

_She kicked at him, her foot connecting lightly with his thigh. "Can I rub salt in the wound by asking you to make me coffee?"_

_He flipped down the covers, a grin on his face. "Anything for you."_

_Watching him get up and run a hand through his hair as he wandered off to the kitchen, she swallowed, trying to take the comment at face value. Nothing in his demeanour suggested he was bothered, he always took well to her playing along, so she took a calming breath and followed him._

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It's two in the afternoon and for some reason, she's still in Castle's apartment. Martha and Alexis have been recounted the events of the past few days in great (and dramatic) detail, Beckett's presence dampening Castle's exaggerations somewhat, and she feels something like contentment as the vibrations of his voice run through her where their shoulders touch. She tries not to think of her phone, turned off in her coat pocket since she got here, and the missed call from Josh she assumes is waiting for her.

There are inevitable conversations approaching.

Beckett is not in the business of lying to a partner, especially not one who very recently gave up a trip to Haiti to try and keep their relationship alive, and she knows he will have questions. And she knows the answers to them are only going to open more avenues that he will want to investigate. He is an inherently open person, he tells her a lot about his work when he can but she, on the other hand, shows him very few of her cards, and it's not what he deserves.

Castle accidentally bumps her shoulder as he explains something to his daughter, and she thinks of his hands in her hair outside a poorly-lit warehouse. Josh deserves to know about him, too.

She forgets, sometimes, how long it takes to unravel the history she has created with Castle. Their relationship barely spans three years and yet it would take a decade to explain the tapestry of it - the moments that have led to catching her mother's killer, spending a week living in his guest bedroom. A kiss beneath fluorescent lights.

The more she thinks about it, the more it strikes her that these are not things that would set Josh's mind at ease if he were to know. Maybe if Castle's title, whatever that might be to her, had an 'ex' in front of it, maybe if she were talking about him in past tense it might be simply explanatory and not an immediate question as to her fidelity. Josh has never appeared to be the jealous type, but boundaries can only be pushed too far and Beckett has been concerned for a while that her and Castle's have already crumbled.

She gets up and finds her coat, excuses herself to Castle's study so she can check her messages. She doesn't notice him watching her go.

Josh's voice greets her when she checks her voicemail, and something like guilt rises when she notices there is nothing accusatory in his tone, just _I hope you're feeling better today, call me when you get this and we can make plans for tonight_. She had left a note on the table saying she had gone to Castle's because they both couldn't sleep, and it is this that makes her realise what's really wrong.

If Richard Castle were simply a shadow-turned-best-friend whom she was regularly irritated at but appreciated nonetheless, she would be thankful that her boyfriend could see that and didn't think anything was amiss when she disappeared to his apartment at three in the morning. The fact that she expected him to be angry is what makes it impossible to deny anymore: as long as Castle is in her life, she is going to have feelings for him. She hangs up the phone and thinks there is something poetic about coming to this conclusion in the quietude of the writer's study, surrounded by the books she calls home. She listens for a moment to the sounds of his family, the people who have let her in without a second thought, without probably even realising how grateful she is for it. Martha and Alexis have yet to ask why she's here, as though it is natural for them to come home and find her stacking the dishwasher in the kitchen with Castle. Castle himself hasn't even broached why she's stayed, and his utter lack of discomfort with her lingering presence makes her think it really is time to go.

Walking back out to the living room, she gathers up her things. "I should be on my way."

A frown passes across Castle's face, but then he stands and smiles. "I'm only going to let you leave if you promise you won't make any detours to the precinct on the drive home. I'll have you know I am completely prepared to call the Captain and have him escort you back here if you do."

She smiles at his need for her to be looked after, and shakes her head. "You'll be happy to know that for once I don't want to be anywhere near work, Castle."

He smiles back, and follows her to the door, studies her as she pulls on her coat and shoes. "I don't mind if you stay. I don't think anybody does – I'm sure Alexis would be thrilled, actually, I may have told her you'd give her some insight into your..." he steps closer, "Poker prowess." He leers at her, enjoying her attempt to look disdainful.

But then she hardens, shifts from one foot to the other and catches her fingers across his sleeve, watching the movement instead of his face. "I'd like to stay but there's... something I have to do. I'll call you later, though, okay?"

He nods, looks almost like he's going to ask her what that something is, but decides against it at the last minute. She steps out the door, then twists on her heel.

"And Castle? Um. Thank you. For last night, for being there."

He repeats a word that she has come to associate entirely with him. "Always, Beckett."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Her apartment feels cold, unmistakably empty, the blanket she wrapped herself in last night still strewn across the couch. Josh's breakfast dishes are in the sink. Everything looks the way it should but she notices just how much it doesn't feel lived in. It's still a fairly new place to her, _home_ is a word that still feels odd to associate with it and it is especially conspicuous having just come from the warmth of Castle's loft.

She sits down, picks at loose threads on the blanket beneath her. She doesn't like being uncertain, though that is exactly what Castle manages to instil in her simply by being himself, by not only his presence at important moments for her in the last three years but his capability to create those moments as well. There is something ridiculous in being able to stare down one of the men responsible for her mother's murder but being unsure about how to feel about a man who has arguably gotten past more of her barricades than any other.

Her breath pours out in a sigh, and with Josh's number on her screen she reluctantly presses call.


	3. part iii

**final part, i think. thank you all so much for reading, makes me feel all happy and worthwhile and like i can actually write and things. x**

* * *

_Josh was already looking for a problem when she opened the door, and she immediately regretted leaving such a simple message on his voicemail – _can you come to my place? I need to talk to you about something_ didn't leave a lot to think about – then the guilt rose again as he asked what was wrong and all that appeared to be on his mind was concern for hypothermia, for post-traumatic stress, _medical_ disorders. Not matters of the more metaphorical heart, the penitence that was wired along all her thoughts of him and she was sure was etched all over her face._

_It felt more like an apology than anything else; even though she knew he was at fault too. She had already taken a box and put all of the things he had accumulated around her place in it, even before he'd arrived, before she had called him, and it leaned as an extra weight on her mind as she explained everything after she invited him in._

_She watched his face, confusion dissipating to resignation the further she got; her explanations becoming more like confessions and when she finished he just sighed, pressed a kiss to her forehead._

_"Sorry it didn't work out."_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

For hours after Josh leaves she just sits, aimlessly watches infomercials and drifts in and out of sleep. Somewhere, she knows that this was the right decision. Somewhere, a weight has lifted. But she has still just broken up with someone who has been in her life the last six months (is it six? It's hard to even remember) and there is an ache that is not being cured by dozing and late night TV. That persistent cold settles back down in her, starts hibernating in the hollows.

It's past midnight but she calls him anyway.

His voice gravels over the line, heavy with sleep, but his worry is apparent. "Have you been dreaming again?"

"Calm down, Castle, I haven't even been to sleep yet."

"How come?"

She rolls her eyes at the sharp edge to his question. "Rough evening, that's all."

It's uncanny, his ability to know exactly what she's talking about from one vague sentence, but she has come to expect both it and the subsequent needling that usually follows.

"Josh?"

She deflects, even though she knows he'll see right through it. "No, the television almost convinced me to buy a Magic Bullet."

"Beckett."

"We broke up."

"I'll be there in twenty." He hangs up without giving her a chance to protest, and she sighs, supposing she'll just have to wait an extra twenty minutes to berate him. She ignores the small part of her that is quietly grateful.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I know it's not entirely the right situation but I figure you're in the camp that believes Chinese food can never go amiss."

Castle slides past her into her apartment, and she doesn't fail to notice the overnight bag he's carrying though she doesn't mention it.

He sets everything down, turns toward her, moves in just a fraction too close. His voice is low. "Look, I know I shouldn't have come, I realised after I hung up that you never pushed anything about Gina and I should have extended you the same courtesy."

She goes to reply, but he continues before she can open her mouth.

"But I then I remembered that you don't talk to people. They have to pry things out of you with a pair of reinforced steel pliers and even then you only say the barest minimum of what you really want to. So I came over anyway."

He wants to touch her, she can see it in the way his gaze rakes over her face, he'd like to gather her up in the same way he would to comfort his daughter if she were standing in Beckett's place. To stop herself from letting him, she turns away.

"I'm okay, Castle."

"You're okay because you know you did the right thing or you're okay because you're managing to not throw a punch at the wall?" He follows her as she slumps to the couch, perches on the edge to study her.

"Would you believe me if I said both?"

"Yes."

Yes, because he has been here too. He settles back into the couch, his knee brushing against hers.

It strikes her that every time he has come to her apartment it has been for her – gestures of kindness and concern without asking for anything in return, and somehow this makes it even harder to voice what it is she wants to say. _I did it because of you _are not words she strings together for many people in this context, and it comes under a list of confessions she's still not sure she's ready to make to him. But there is one she does admit.

"I never told Josh anything about my mother."

Castle doesn't say anything, but she can feel him watching her.

"I never told him anything about anything, really, and I guess I realised how unfair that was."

She looks to him but he remains silent for a moment, just searches out something in her face and her heart flutters, bird in a cage. "How did he take it?"

"Well. Much better than I would have if I was in his place."

He nods, drops his gaze.

"Castle? You're being unnervingly quiet. Shouldn't you be... I don't know, making inappropriate comments about how we're both single now?"

She's concerned - Castle is never not talking, never one to pass up an opportunity to add a little levity and yet he's offering nothing that gives a clue to his opinion. She prods.

"Surely there's a joke in there somewhere about how it'd be a waste if we didn't test it out?" She knows it's dangerous, getting so close to what she wants to articulate herself, but she needs that anchor of lewd suggestions, inappropriate humour, him being _Castle_.

His eyes meet hers, and she sees him swallow. "Beckett." The expression he has is reminiscent of the day before, the seconds before the drop into saying something real.

His phone trills. Looking at it, he murmurs _Alexis_ and frowns, taking the call

"Are you okay, pumpkin? It's late." He stands, moves away (steps back from the edge), and Beckett heads for the kettle. Catching Castle's eye she holds up two mugs and mouths _tea?_ He nods.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

She pours water over the teabags in their respective mugs and watches the steam rise, hears him come up behind her.

"Alexis okay?" she asks, not turning around.

"Yeah, apparently I forgot to turn the kitchen light off when I left and she saw it when she came down for some water."

Beckett doesn't need him to finish, she can readily imagine the anxiousness that would have come over his daughter as she realised her father's room was empty in the middle of the night.

The tea darkens, and she doesn't know how to go back to where they were.

Castle pipes up. "How many bets do you think will be in the pool when everyone finds out you broke up with Josh?"

She turns, cracks a grin, and he smiles back. "Honestly, I'm afraid to know. Do you think they'll manage the whole precinct this time?"

"It wouldn't surprise me in the least."

Sloshing in milk and two sugars (the latter for him) she hands Castle his tea then sips at her own.

"I'm sorry for before." He pauses, and she sees his knuckles whiten around his mug. His voice shakes minutely when he continues. "It's just... I keep thinking about how you've almost died twice in the last few days."

Something around her heart twists. Not _I_, not even _we_. This is about her and how he feels and he might as well have said _I almost lost you_ for all the difference it makes to her in this moment, regarding his admission over a cup of tea.

Her voice is low. "So have you."

He shakes his head. "I have a family who don't want to let me out of their sight. Have you even talked to your dad since we found out about the bomb? Since you arrested Lockwood?"

She remembers the way he looked at her across the precinct the other day, ignoring everything Fallon said to the group of cops; his only focus her, standing alone beside her desk. It was that knack again, the one that made her think he knew exactly what was on her mind. _Who would I call about a bomb?_

"No." Her half-empty cup plunks to the counter beside her, and she crosses her arms in an attempt to shield _something_ from him and the way he's making her feel so unearthed.

"And you dumped the guy who decided to stick around for you."

"I'm fine, Castle."

He looks almost angry at her response, setting his own cup down next to him and taking a step toward her.

"That's what you're giving me, Beckett? After everything that's happened in the last two days you're _fine_?"

Twice she's called him in the middle of the night and only now has he really questioned, dug to know her motivations. He is so good at giving her an out that it's almost startling, goading that this time he doesn't.

So she takes a step forward, curls her fingers around his lapels and pulls his mouth to hers. He only hesitates for a moment, then his hands slide over her jaw and he drags his tongue across her lips, laves it into her mouth when she parts them. Desperation is what he kisses her with, his hands moving to haul at her waist, pressing her into him, his fingers finding the heat of her skin. _I almost lost you_ emptied into a kiss, everything they won't say spoken in the breath between their mouths. He crowds, her back hits the line of the counter and she pushes back, fabric roughing between them as her teeth bite at his lip, his fingers clutching into her hair.

When he pulls away her whole body feels like livewire, jolting with panting breaths, her hands fisted into the back of his shirt. A fire burns.

"Josh may have stuck around once but who's to say he would again? He's not the one who is _always_ there, and I told him that." She brings one of her hands back around to his chest, watches her fingers smooth down the lines of his shirt.

He clears his throat. "What else did you tell him?"

"Near death experiences have this capacity to put a lot of things in perspective; that I didn't think I could stay with him if my heart wasn't in it anymore." She knows she's talking without really saying anything, but she looks up and thinks he probably understands anyway, his hand on her face pulling her in so he can kiss her again, slow and careful.

This time when he stops he grins, and her eyes narrow.

"So I guess this means you're on the rebound."

She slaps his chest. "You're _insufferable_." Then she smiles, trails a finger along his collarbone. "I need some time to get my head around this, okay? And I need you to not have doubts about me so I think this is as far as it can go right now."

"I'm not sure it's possible to have doubts about you, Kate Beckett."

"Castle, this isn't like doubting whether I can break a suspect or aim my gun at the right spot, it's something you can't see, and that makes it even more treacherous to mess with."

He nods, sighs. "Can we at least watch infomercials until you fall asleep? I want the number for one of those crazy steam mop things."

She steps away, rolling her eyes. "I think we both need to go to bed. You have this terrible habit of keeping me up lately, and I'd like to go to work in the morning."

Feigning a wound in his chest, Castle heads for the couch, then twists on his heel. "Hey, does this mean I can make appreciative comments about your ass in the precinct? We could help along the bets..."

"In your dreams."

He flops onto the cushions, pulls her blanket over him. "Yes, I'm sure they will be."

Grabbing another blanket from the linen cupboard, she throws it at his face and switches out the light. "_Goodnight_, Castle."

"Until tomorrow, Detective."

Shutting her door, she smiles, the last of the cold heating to warmth around her bones.


End file.
